King of Thieves
by Morgan of Salerone
Summary: The tale of the Gerudo's most well known king, and his fall from Hylian grace.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Mabora sat on the birthing bed, her legs spread wide and her hand clenched tightly around the withered fingers of her elder, Seesha. Perspiration beaded on her forehead, and fat droplets rolled down her face and sides.

"Come now, push," Seesha urged. "You're almost there."

"Din's teeth! Why does this have to hurt so much?!" Mabora grit her teeth as the pain overtook her once more.

"One more push!" the midwife-like aid called, and Mabora gave one last cry as she put her all into the effort. A thin wail filled the room, and she gave a worn sigh, collapsing against the backrest of the bed fully. Her long, red stuck to her face and back, and her amber eyes gazed over at the midwife and Seesha wearily. Seeing their anxious expressions, she frowned.

"What is it?" she asked weakly. Seesha looked up at her, her face unreadable. Outside the birthing room, the Gerudo fortress was quiet, the gravity of the events occurring inside unknown.

"Mabora," Seesha said quietly. "It is a boy."


	2. Chapter One: The Beetle

He sat squatted, watching the half dead beetle trying to cross the brown, burnt stones of the fortress, his red eyes unblinking. In the distance he could hear his mother calling – her voice was floating lethargically through the heavy, still air. A shadow fell across the beetle, but still he did not look up.

"They're looking for you, you know. She's gonna be angry when she finds you." He ignored the voice of the young girl across from him. The beetle was making headway.

"Hey! I said you'll be in trouble if they find you! Aren't you scared?" Still he did not answer, although he could feel his temper rising. It had been so quiet and peaceful before she came.

"Just because you're king doesn't mean you get to be rude, you know!" He sighed.

"Nabooru, shut up. I'm trying to watch the beetle." He could sense her tensing up, anger falling off her in waves.

"Well, watch your stupid beetle take this!" The young red head cried out, and she stamped her foot down upon the beetle, crushing it.

"Hey!" he shouted, jumping up. His eyes flashed heatedly. "That beetle was going to make it!"

"So?" Nabooru's yellow eyes were disinterested as she scraped her shoe against the brick and lifted it to inspect for any beetle remains. "Who cares about one half dead bug?"

"It's not just a half dead bug!" he yelled, thoroughly frustrated. Couldn't she see? If a half dead beetle could cross the burning pavement, could not his people drag themselves, wounded, out of this hellish lifestyle they lived?

Nabooru glanced up at him, her eyebrow cocked in sarcastic questioning.

"You're weird," she stated callously. He felt his temper snap. Here he was, watching a beetle to see if fate could be changed, and she comes and steps on it and then _dares_ to call him weird?

"I'll get you for that!" he growled before pouncing on her.

Their ten year old bodies scuffled on the hot stones of the fortress, Nabooru's yellow eyes locked with his red gaze in a stare more malicious than a basilisk's. She managed to get the upper hand and pin him on his back, but he reached up and grabbed a full handful of her hair and yanked it as hard as he could. She let go with a yelp and clutched the offending part, but before anything else could be done, she was torn off him and he hauled upright.

"Gannondorf Dragmire, what in all the dark realm do you think you're doing?" He glared over at Nabooru, who was held hostage by Sasoora, his mother's closest friend. His mother herself gripped him by his arm, her iron grasp unrelenting, and she pinched his ear when he didn't respond. He frowned up at her, but his crimson gaze was no match for her practiced amber stare. "I asked you a question," she said coldly. Gannondorf looked back at Nabooru, his face seething.

"She killed the beetle I was watching."

"He was ignoring me," she shot back, her face just as angry as his.

"She called me weird!"

"He attacked me!"

"Enough!" Mabora's voice rang out, echoing off the fortress stones and silencing them. "It seems you are both at fault, and since you continue to blame each other, you will both be punished." The Gerudo woman looked over at her companion, exasperation showing on her face for a moment.

"Sasoora, if you would take Nabooru back to her mother and inform her of what happened, I would be grateful." Sasoora nodded, turning Nabooru away and heading back into the cool darkness of the fortress. Nabooru snuck one last look back at Gannondorf, and stuck her tongue out at him. He returned the expression, only to receive a light cuff on the head from his mother.

"Irresponsible behaviour from others does not merit irresponsible behaviour from yourself," she told him. "Now come. I have a lot of work to do besides thinking up some punishment for this incident."

Still holding his arm, the Gerudo mother led her kingly son back into the shade of the fortress, the feverish heat of the day diminishing quickly as the passed deeper into their dark home. Gannondorf looked back one last time, noting the Gerudo standard sitting lazily against the flagpole in the absence of the wind. Someday, he promised himself, his people would hold their standard in a place that had a soft, cooling wind, and no longer would they struggle against the bitter heat that drained their energy so. His people were the beetle, but he would ensure there would be no Nabooru to squash it before it reached it's home.


	3. Chapter Two: A King's Scabby Knees

Chapter Two: A King's Scabby Knees

Ganondorf grumbled to himself as he knelt on the floor beside Nabooru, a bucket of soapy water between him and her and a wire brush in his hand. Behind them a pair of guards leaned up against the wall, laughing as they exchanged jokes and stories, their halberds held at jaunty angles.

He pushed the wooden handled brush across the warm stones of the fortress entrance floor, struggling to get a bit of stubborn grime out of a crack. The memory of his mother's words echoed in his mind, encouraging him to continue without complaint: 'you'd better make that floor clean enough to eat off of, or, by Din's teeth, I'll tan your hide so hard you'll look like a stalchild when I'm done!'

Ganondorf shuddered inwardly, his breath rattling out as did so. Nabooru glanced over at him, her blue eyes cold and calculating.

"Can't take the hard work, princey?" she taunted. Ganondorf's eyes narrowed; he glared at her out of the corner of his eyes and pushed his brush harder to show his strength.

"That's king to you." His voice was dark and low.

"Oooh, I'm so scared!" Nabooru rolled her eyes as she mock fainted. "Like I'd fear a king who scrubs his own castle."

"Why, you!" He threw his brush down and started to rise to tackle her, but, in a movement he could barely see, one of the guards crossed the room and placed the butt of her spear at the base of his neck.

"Something wrong, Highness?" He could hear the laughter in her voice. Nabooru looked as if she were holding back a snigger as well, until the other guard placed her in a similar position to his own. He felt smug satisfaction as he watched her expression become one of alarm.

"Nothing at all," he replied politely to the guard, a malicious gleam in his eye appearing as he caught Nabooru's gaze with his own. "Nabooru here was just telling me how fat she thought you two looked. I was only defending your honour."

"What?! I didn't say that!" Nabooru's face mimicked her panicked tone. The guard holding her down leaned forward, her cocked eyebrow accented by her heavy white makeup.

"Is that so?" she drawled, her golden stare holding her captive's unflinchingly. She straightened, glancing over at her partner. "What do you think?" she questioned. "One of them is obviously lying." Ganondorf felt the satisfaction he felt at pinning the outburst on Nabooru turn sour. It was a repeat of earlier that day. If he didn't come clean about lying, they would both have more work to do, yet if he did…

"It was me." Nabooru's voice cut through Ganondorf's thoughts. He glanced at her in surprise. "I was the one who lied," the young Gerudo continued. "I was saying nasty things about you because I was angry. I'm sorry." She cast her eyes downward, acting the perfect part of a subdued and apologetic trickster. He couldn't for the life of him figure out what was going on.

"Well, there we have it," shrugged the second guard. "He was telling the truth." She turned to him, her red hair flashing in the sunlight that shone through the fortress entrance. "You may go. Nabooru will finish cleaning the entrance herself as penance for her misbehaviour."

Dazed by this sudden turn of events, Ganondorf stood and turned to leave, his eyes looking back to meet Nabooru's for one brief moment. They were like pits of blue flame, so intense was their gaze. A wave of dread passed through him, and he quickly looked away and made his way deeper into the fortress. Nabooru may have saved his hide, but he had a feeling he would be paying for it later.

Skipping down the cool stone steps, Ganondorf drew an imaginary sword and began to hack his way through invisible foes, their silent cries fuelling his excited rampage. Reaching the bottom of the staircase, he crouched, scanning the room darkly for any more enemies. Satisfied that there were none, he straightened and with a flamboyant twirl of his wrist, sheathed his bladeless blade.

"What… are you doing?"

Ganondorf nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of a young girl's voice. He whirled around, trying to keep the blood from rising to his face as the figure of a girl his age came into view. Her hair was almost blonde and loose about her shoulders, and her eyes like the blue sky unseen high above them. Only the dark colour of her skin and the reddish tinge seen in her hair when she moved heralded her as a Gerudo.

"What are you doing here?" Ganondorf demanded. His brows were knit together and he stood as tall as he could, trying to look imposing and kingly. The girl's eyes widened at his sudden fierce tone.

"I'm taking the laundry back," she said humbly, looking a little embarrassed. It was then that he noticed the basket at her hip, full to the brim with neatly folded clothes. It was obvious what she was doing. With sudden horror he realised she was embarrassed for _him_.

"Oh, well," he said, flustered, "carry on then."

She nodded, turning away. He watched her go. After taking a few steps, she paused and half turned back to him, looking as if she would speak, but another voice cut through the stillness of the fortress, silencing her.

"There you are!" Seesha hobbled down the steps, her aging body not as nimble as it once was. He glanced over at the older woman, unsure of what she wanted and his heart sinking a little at the knowledge that his freedom was probably about to be lost. He looked back in the direction of the girl, but all he saw was a brief glimpse of her turning around the corner before she was gone. Sighing, he returned his attention to Seesha. Her golden eyes flashed as they met his.

"Your Highness, I have been looking for you all day! Were you not supposed to be cleaning the entrance with Nabooru?" Her white hair fell over her shoulder and she bent down to be at his eye level. He looked down and scuffed the floor with his foot, his lips pursed.

"Nabooru was saying mean things about the guards, so they made her finish cleaning by herself," he replied. Something didn't sit right with him continuing the lie, but it was either that or, most likely, scrub the entire fortress by himself. Seesha straightened and sighed, shaking her head.

"Poor Nabooru. Well, either way, let's get going. Your mother is out with Sasoora, so we should take advantage of the time and get some studying done."

Ganondorf sighed. He hated studying. Who cared about history? His people were in the desert, had always been in the desert, and were hated by everyone else. That's all he really needed to know.

Seesha offered him her hand, and he took it out of habit.

"Seesha," he asked as they made their way through the dark passageways. It was cooler when no sunlight could get in. "Why am I the only Gerudo with red eyes? Is it because I'm a man?"

"Certainly not!" Seesha snorted. "Wherever did you get that idea?" They turned down a side passage, taking a short cut to the chambers he shared with his mother and Seesha.

"You and mother and all the other grownups have yellow eyes, and Nabooru and that other girl I just saw have blue eyes. No one else I know has eyes like mine." Seesha was quiet a moment. In the silence he was suddenly aware of the sound of their footsteps echoing off the stone walls. "Ganondorf, do you know how you came to be?" she asked finally. Ganondorf frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Well…" Seesha seemed to be struggling to find her words. They arrived at their home, and she opened the door, letting him enter first. He scrambled across the room to take his favourite chair, watching with a cheeky grin as Seesha closed the door behind her and ambled over to her own seat. She caught his eye and smiled – she understood the joke he was making. So much for giving the elderly first pick. Letting the smile fade, the aged woman continued with her explanation. "You see, Ganondorf, to make a child one needs a father and a mother-"

"But I don't have a father."

"I'm getting to that, don't interrupt," Seesha scolded lightly. Ganondorf bit his lip to keep from saying anything more and nodded. "One doesn't need a father to grow up, in fact I'd almost say it's better not to have one, but one _does_ need a father to make a child. Does this make sense?" Ganondorf nodded. It made sense… mostly. He didn't quite understand why one needed a father to make children, but he decided it wasn't really important enough to interrupt Seesha again. "Only one male child is born to the Gerudo every one hundred years," she began again, "so when there is no king, we women must leave the valley and search the rest Hyrule for a man we deem worthy to be a father of our children." She shifted in her seat, pulling her long tail of hair over her shoulder to keep from getting in the way. Her eyes were on his face, studying him as she spoke. "When this happens, the child that is born most often looks more like her father, colouring-wise, at least, until she gets older. Usually by the time she's hit her thirteenth year she is indistinguishable from the other Gerudo."

"Hm…" Ganondorf sat, slowly absorbing the information. "So my father had red eyes," Ganondorf stated slowly, "and red hair?"

"Red eyes at least, yes," Seesha replied. "Your father was a man from the Sheikah tribe, which is renowned for that particular trait. However, as far as I know they are all very fair haired." Ganondorf looked down at the floor, frowning in thought as he swung his legs absentmindedly.

"I guess Nabooru and that other girl's fathers weren't Sheikah then, since they don't have red eyes. Would they have been Hylians?"

"Most likely. Hylians do often have blonde hair and blue eyes, but one can never be certain what the father was unless you ask the mother, which, of course, is very rude." Ganondorf nodded. That made sense. It would hurt a mother's pride to have it pointed out that her child was not of pure Gerudo descent.

"What about children who have Gerudo fathers?" he asked. "What do they look like?"

"They look as you and I," the aged woman replied simply. Ganondorf thought on that for a moment, chewing on his tongue lightly as he did so. It was a bad habit of his. "Well," Seesha's voice broke his train of though, "let us begin our lessons for the day. It's much too hot outside for you to play anyway." He groaned, dreading the feared tome that held record of his people's history that she would be dragging out soon, but he hopped off his seat and trudged good naturedly over to the desk where he took his lessons. Seesha huffed up from behind him, the book flopping open as she let it thud on the table. A scrap of paper fell out and drifted to the floor, and she bent down to pick it up. As she rose, his knees caught her attention, and she cried out, "Din's teeth, boy! What happened to your pants?"

Ganondorf looked down at said part, frowning. The knees were scuffed up and completely worn through on the right side, with a patch of roughed skin, a half formed scab over it, showing through.

"I guess they got wrecked when I was fighting with Nabooru," he answered unconcernedly. They were just pants.

"Mabora will have your hide when she sees those! Do you know how hard she worked to make those for you? It costs a lot of effort to make new pants – maybe she'll get you to make your own pair next time!" Ganondorf winced. Knowing his mother, she probably would. Sighing, he turned back to the book.

"Can we… can we just start the lesson right now?"

Seesha's eyes brightened.

"Well, if you're eager and wanting, I suppose there's no reason not to. I'm glad to see you've finally grown up a little."

He groaned inwardly, holding back the urge to roll his eyes. Eager indeed. He just didn't want to think about what his mother was going to do to him when she got back. This was his second pair of pants this year already…

"So, as we studying last time, King Naborfin…"

It was going to be a long, long lesson.

------------------

Ganondorf stared at Nabooru's eyes, determined not to blink before she did.

"My father was a Sheikah, you know," he said, trying to distract her.

"So?" Her tone was, as usual, snooty and condescending.

"So my father was cooler than yours. Yours was a Hylian. _Everybody's_ father is a Hylian. Mine's the only one that's special."

"That's not true! My father was a Hylian knight, so there!"

"He was still just a Hylian."

"So, Hylian's can use magic!" He could see her eyebrows knitting together as she grew angry.

"So can Sheikah," he retorted.

"No they can't!"

"Yes they can!"

"You're stupid!"

"Am not!"

"Idiot!"

"Why you!"

It was much later that he found himself in the mess hall with Nabooru, a bucket of soapy water between them and wire brush in hand, and a pair of giggling, gossiping guards behind him keeping watch.


	4. Chapter Three: Sword Trial

Chapter Three: Sasoora and Mabora

Ganondorf panted heavily as he balanced on the balls of his feet, ready and poised to take action should his opponent so much as flinch. Angry, red welts from where she had landed blows had formed on his dark skin. Sweat rolled off him in fat droplets.

Although he wore a bandana to keep his quickly reddening hair out of his face, pieces of it were dislodged and hung in his eyes. Carefully watching his opponent as they circled around each other, he deemed the time appropriate and quickly lifted his hand to brush it out of the way.

With speed quicker than a lightning's flash, she leapt forward and struck. He blocked, but was pushed off balance by the ferocity of her attack, and in the brief moment of exposure she twisted her wooden practice blade and smacked him roughly across the ribs.

"Dead!" she cried, and she hopped back to her former position. With a frustrated sigh, Ganondorf flopped on the ground, exhausted.

"I don't know how you do it, Mom. I was sure I wasn't open." Mabora stepped forward, lowering her weapon as she did so.

"Many, many years of practice," she replied. "Diligent training of both the mind and body is what makes the Gerudo the ultimate warriors of Hyrule. We are faster than the Sheikah, stronger than the Hylians, sturdier than the Zoras and much, much smarter than the Gorons." A smile came to his lips as she said this, and she shared it with him, her amber eyes crinkling around the edges. Snatching up his sword, he swung at her ankles in a sudden motion, but to no avail. With smooth, effortless grace, she evaded his surprise attack and danced backwards, clacking him on the head with the tip of her own weapon as she did so.

"Ow!" he cried, dropping the wooden blade to clutch at the smarting region.

"Dead," his mother replied, and he looked up at her with a foul expression.

"Many, many years," he muttered darkly. "If you were anyone else I'd call you an old hag, but I know you'd only hit me again."

"Correct," she replied with a small, smug smile. "At least you are learning something about me." She stepped forward again, offering her hand this time. He took it gratefully and she pulled him up. The practice sword he left in the dirt. Someone else would be coming soon to practice, and he wanted to show his good intention.

The two of them walked down the sunburnt path to the fortress, side by side as equals, Mabora's long red hair shimmering in the sun's golden embrace, Ganondorf's bandana sticking to his head with sweat and his bare shoulders strong. They passed the stables and he glanced over, slowing as a movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. A young girl his age met his orange gaze with her own green one, and quickly looked away as if embarrassed. He was struck by the oddity of the moment, but he said nothing and did nothing, choosing instead to keep pace with his mother.

"Mom, do you know who that girl is?" he asked as he took a couple quick steps to catch up with her.

"Who?" she asked, glancing around. Ganondorf looked back as well, but the girl was nowhere to be seen. He frowned.

"There was a girl there a minute ago…" he trailed off. "Ah, don't worry about it, it's not important." He scowled over at her when he noticed her looking at him with a smug and knowing smile. "What?" he questioned, perturbed by her sly manner.

"Oh, nothing," she said. "I just believe that my young boy is becoming a man, that's all." She turned from him, looking forward down the path once more, the smile still on her face. His brow knit, he continued to look at her for a moment more before shaking his head and looking forward. Mothers.

A figure rounded the corner ahead of them, and it raised a hand to wave at them. Mabora returned the gesture, shouting out,

"Sasoora! How goes the hunt?" A reply came from the figure, but it was muffled and incomprehensible. Mabora glanced at her son, a twinkle in her amber eye. "Let's race, shall we? First one to Sasoora wins. The one who makes her cringe the most gets extra points."

"Agreed," Ganondorf laughed with an excited, confident smile. "When she next calls out?"

"Agreed," his mother replied, an equally excited grin on her face. "Sasoora!" she called again, and when the first whisperings of her reply came back, the two of them burst into a sprint.

Ganondorf pumped his arms and willed his legs to fly, knowing his mother was swift and sure footed. He pulled out in front of her quickly, his heart racing and exhilaration lending him speed. Sasoora's dark figure grew quickly, and it urged him on. His breath was quick and measured. His footsteps were light. The sun beat down upon him, crying out, 'run, run, beat her, beat her'. His eyes danced with happiness.

He could see Sasoora's horrified expression as he bore down upon her, and he laughed inside as she tried to step out of his way, cringing. The excitement of this victory was only shadowed by the flash of red beside him as his mother sprinted by him, but Sasoora's cry of terror as he skidded to a stop barely more than a hand's width from her pleased him.

"I win," he claimed breathlessly. "You got here faster, but I made Sasoora wet herself with fright!"

"You did not!" the red faced woman argued, rightfully so. She crossed her arms in front of herself, ill humour written all over her face. "Do not discredit me for being afraid for my wellbeing, either; I trust my own abilities, but _yours_ can be questionable at times." Ganondorf ignored her jibe, a happy grin still on his face. Mabora crossed to him, her breath already almost recovered.

"You are becoming faster," she said proudly as she ruffled his hair. "Soon you will be as swift as the wind that blows across the desert. Swifter, even."

"Don't bloat his head," Sasoora grumbled. "It's bad enough as it is." Ganondorf laughed. Some claimed that Sasoora's ill temper was the best thing to kill a mood, but it had never bothered him. She had been there since the day of his birth; he knew that secretly underneath it all she was proud of him. She turned to his mother, her lips pursed as she placed her hands on her hips. "Are you sure he is ready for the Tatsų-Rékikon? Mayhaps we should stick him in the desert for a while, let him mature a bit."

"The Tatsų-Rékikon!?" Ganondorf said excitedly, his eyes lighting up. "You think I'm ready for the sword trial?" Mabora gazed at him fondly, her lips turned up in her familiar smirk smile.

"Yes," she said calmly. "Sasoora and I have given your name to the elders. They will decide when it takes place."

"Yes!!" he exclaimed, jumping up into the air. "The Tatsų-Rékikon is mine! Hah! That'll show Nabooru, oh yeah! I can't believe it! The Tatsų-Rékikon!" He threw himself at Sasoora, wrapping his skinny thirteen year old arms around her waist. She looked down at him, surprised by the sudden show of affection, but before she could do anything he was away to his mother, giving her the same squeezing hug. "I gotta tell Nabooru!" he shouted as he let his mother go, excitement written all over his features. The two women watched him as he danced away, yipping and hollering and jumping all over the place as he went. Mabora smiled fondly after him, and sighed with content.

"He is becoming a man," Sasoora said quietly, and Mabora nodded.

"Yes… he is." She sighed again and looked down, words lost and unnecessary between herself and her dear friend. Sasoora suddenly became still and sombre, and she looked up to see what had changed. The woman's eyes met hers, their kohl outlines giving her a dark, sharp look that matched her sudden changed mood.

"Koume and Kotake are here. They demand a new disciple." The words hit her like a punch to the stomach, and she swallowed nervously. Bile rose up in the back of her throat.

"Have they called for anyone specific?" Sasoora shook her head.

"No, but it is only a matter of time. Seesha is currently entertaining them at the fortress. I thought it best to inform all the mothers first, and then decide on action next." Mabora let her breath out in a long, unhappy stream. The sun was hot and cruel upon her head.

"Let us return to the fortress. There is little we can do without counsel from the others."

-----------------------------

"I don't care if it's tradition, those witches must be stopped!" A woman named Noozooru shouted as she banged her fist against the top of the table.

"Noozooru, please calm down," another begged. Voices chorused around the table, and Mabora rubbed her slender fingers against her temples to relieve the oncoming headache she felt. Beside her, Sasoora sat silently.

"There are so few children now," a tall woman with red makeup was saying. "With the drought and famine we have been forced to raid more and more; the other races hate us. No one will take to mate a Gerudo woman anymore. We cannot afford to surrender any one!"

"What she says is true!" Noozooru agreed loudly, her yellow eyes flashing. "We should banish those witches and be rid of them once and for all."

"Then who will keep the winds at bay and stave off the hungry wolfos?" Mabora said, her voice rising powerfully over the others. She opened her eyes and looked around the table, taking the time to meet the gaze of each and every woman there. "I am not of the belief that we should allow our children to be taken from us by Kotake and Koume, but they have been humoured for centuries for a reason. We should not take them lightly, nor ignore the services they do us."

Noozooru looked angry, but posed no argument. The other women seemed uncomfortable as well.

"What do you suggest we do, then?" one asked. "It is all good and well to say such things, but where is the action?" More murmuring. Mabora sighed, clutching her head. She was not a leader, nor did she aspire to be one. She was only the mother of the Gerudo male, and that was only by luck and chance. She did not have the knowledge or strength to govern her people well. She knew this. Beside her, Sasoora stirred.

"Perhaps some new agreement can be made with the witches," she said, her dark voice quieting the others. "It is well known that they love a good bargain; if we tempt them, they may follow." Noozooru sneered.

"That still leaves us with only words and no action. Can you do nothing but spout useless nonsense?" Sasoora fixed her with a cold, unflinching stare.

"I have yet to hear you offer a helpful suggestion, 1st rank." Noozooru took in her breath with a hiss. Reminding one of one's rank in such a manner was acceptable, but only just so. Sasoora was dancing on a sharp and merciless edge. The feeling in the room became suddenly split between those hostile to the brusque woman. Trying to placate those offended, Mabora spoke again.

"No one here has much to offer because none of us have been in this situation before. It is understandable and forgivable. However, we must remember: we are Gerudo. We do not bicker and quarrel amongst ourselves; that is the job for the other races. Now, who here wishes to keep her child with them, and not given to Koume and Kotake?" There was a murmur of 'I do's from the women. "Good," Mabora said with a nod of her head. "We are in accord on at least one subject. No one wants to give up her child. Now, who still wishes for the protection of the witches and the sorcery they know?" Again there was a chorus of agreement. "There, that is currently two things that we agree on. Now that we all know what we want, let us converse peacefully and respectfully to come to a conclusion on how to obtain these things. Any suggestions are welcome, even if they are not complete and foolproof in their execution. We must begin somewhere."

The women nodded, and, their voices buzzing quietly, they began to devise a plan for protecting their children.

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	5. Chapter Four: Dissatisfaction

Seesha sipped her drink with outward calmness, the bitterness of the chilled liquid reflecting her mood. Across from her, seated on the best cushions the fortress had to offer, Koume and Kotake rested, drinking and dining on the best foods available. It pained her to see them consume the precious good, for Mabora and she, as well as all their childless friends, had been saving them for Ganondorf's Tatsų-Rékikon. It seemed that the festivities that would follow the completion of his sword trial would be minimal, if not putt off altogether until further notice.

Koume, the younger sister, sighed in satisfaction as she took the last draw from her cup, the red jewel on her forehead glittering brightly.

"Is there anything else I can get you?" Seesha asked, using all her control to keep her voice soothing and without scorn.

"Oh, no. I think I'm fine for now," the witch replied, her toothless mouth gaping as she grinned. Seesha struggled to hid her revulsion. She had lost one of her childhood friends to Koume and Kotake's malicious, boney grip, and she have never forgotten, nor forgiven, them for it.

"However," Kotake added, her yellow eyes watching the other Gerudo slyly, "we have yet to welcome our new disciple. This hospitality is all very well, but we are old women." She smiled cruelly. "Give us what we want; we dislike being stalled." Seesha felt her jaw clench with anger.

"And who would you choose for your… teachings?" she asked, a single, small waver in her voice betraying her inner emotion. Koume plucked the last biscuit from the red, ceramic plate before her, sucking on it before gumming it down.

"We were thinking of perhaps that Nabooru child. She's the granddaughter of the last king, isn't she?"

"I'm home!" Ganondorf's childish voice cut off Seesha's reply, and she felt her stomach flip about and tangle into knots.

"Who is-" Koume began, but the Gerudo cut her off.

"I apologise for allowing us to be interrupted. Please excuse me for one moment."

Flying from her seat, the aged woman hobbled as quickly as she could to the entrance of her home, hoping to stop Ganondorf before the witches saw him.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed. Ganondorf's eyes widened with alarm.

"Don't I have lessons?" he asked, his eyebrows knit as he froze.

"No, not today. Now get out!" She knew she was being unusually harsh, but the witches had large ears and she didn't want them to suspect anything. It was fortunate that the boy's voice had yet to change completely, and could still pass for a girl's. If luck would have it, the witches would know nothing.

After she had shut the door behind a bewildered, and probably hurt, Ganondorf, she returned to the main room and seated herself, apologising once more.

"It's nothing to worry about," Kotake replied, a sickening smirk on her face. "I'm sure it's impossible to inform _everyone_ of our arrival." She glanced at her sister, and Seesha was suddenly filled with dread. She was sure somehow they knew. "However," the witch continued, "we are tired. Is there not someplace we may rest?" Seesha nodded, a forced smile living briefly on her features.

"Of course. This way, please."


End file.
